


Who Have You Become

by ira_fae



Series: The Devil's After Both of Us [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Armitage Hux Has Issues, Armitage Hux Needs A Hug, Art Conservation, Brendol Hux's A+ Parenting, Kylo Ren and Rey Are Related, M/M, Magical Accidents, Mentioned Brendol Hux, OR IS IT, Rey Skywalker, Rey Solo, Skywalker Family Drama, Slow Burn, Slow burn because they don't meet until like the last few chapters, non vegan fanfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 07:41:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 19,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23347843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ira_fae/pseuds/ira_fae
Summary: Armitage Hux runs a very successful art restoration business. He is tasked with restoring a painting for one of the most influential families in the world. The Skywalker Family. The portrait is an incredible piece of artwork with several holes due to mishandling. Hux is to fix the holes and restore the painting to its former glory. He can't help but notice how intense the eyes are of the portrait, or how much it looks like the estranged member of the Skywalker family.Kylo Ren is a mystery to the public. They all know he got into a disagreement that turned into a family feud that has lasted years. Will Hux fix more than holes in canvas? Will he restore more than paint and varnish?One fateful night will change the course of events for Hux, Kylo, and the entire Skywalker family.
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Armitage Hux/Kylo Ren, It's background, Poe Dameron/Finn, but it's there - Relationship
Series: The Devil's After Both of Us [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1707214
Comments: 27
Kudos: 93





	1. Who Have You Become

**Author's Note:**

> I would just like to say that this work is inspired by TheReal Mcgee on tumblr and this wonderful artwork (https://therealmcgee.tumblr.com/post/138517783269/regency-au-kylo)
> 
> Also, I don't have a beta, if someone wants to volunteer...

He is sitting on the couch - back against one of the arms, ankles elegantly crossed on the other side - when she bustles through the door. She is in a hurry, as usual, and she’s mumbling to herself. He watches as she pushes a hand through her blonde hair and moves past him. She crosses into the kitchen and he can hear her moving around. 

“Hello, Phasma…” when she doesn’t respond he sighs loudly, “Hello, Hux.” He says it to himself, mostly. “How was your day, Phasma?” He has closed the book, one long finger keeping his place between the pages. Still, no response. 

“Oh, wow, that’s very interesting,” he says to her silence, “And how was your day, Hux? How was work?” He’s gotten louder, trying to draw her into the conversation. Despite having been roommates and friends for many years, Phasma can be a bit… distant. 

Hux continues his one-sided conversation, “It was great. I finished that dreadful scenery and received a _very_ interesting inquiry about a rather large portrait.” When nothing comes from the kitchen Hux sighs loudly. He puts the bookmark into its place and moves into the kitchen with grace. Phasma stands in front of the counter, several books laid out. Hux crosses his arms and leans against the doorway, waiting. 

She’s like family. Has been since they met at university. Phasma is a wonderful friend but she can get very into her work. Hux tries his best to help her keep a healthy work/life balance. He doesn’t get very far. She’s still mumbling to herself. Hux clears his throat. 

Still nothing. 

He sighs and moves to stand beside her. 

_Still_ nothing. 

Hux closes two of her books and she finally looks at him, affronted. 

She snaps, “I was working!” 

Hux rolls his eyes, “Oh, yes. Hello to you too, dear friend.” She sighs heavily and closes the rest of the books, stacking them into a neat pile. She shakes her head at him and moves to the fridge. 

“What’s on the menu tonight,” she asks, searching the fridge for ingredients for their dinner. Hux resists the urge to roll his eyes. 

“Carrots, avocado, and cucumber, please. The rice is already cooked. We just have to slice the fillings.” 

“Did you get crab,” her head is still in the fridge and Hux scoffs. 

“Who do you think I am? Yes, get it also please.” 

She gets out the ingredients and they fall into place side by side, slicing and cutting. Hux used to marvel at how easy it was to be by her side but now he takes the comfortability in stride. For a while, they prepare ingredients in silence, finding a rhythm in the sounds of knives and vegetables.

Phasma gently breaks the silence, “How was work?” 

Hux tries not to laugh, _tries_ , “Oh, we’ve had this conversation, while your face was in your physics books.” 

“Theoretical physics…” 

Hux does really laugh this time as if he’d try to understand Phasma’s line of work, “Well, as I said earlier today was good. I finished the Giusetti landscape-” 

“Oh, finally!” 

“-and someone called about a portrait.” 

Phasma turns to him, a smile on her face, “Oh, that is good. You love portraits.” 

Hux’s mouth turns up, “I… Yes, I suppose I do. I just think they’re so much more interesting than a bunch of trees!” 

She chuckles, “Don’t start. Theoretical physics goes over your head, the finer points of fine art go over mine.” 

Hux rolls his eyes, a full smile on his face, “You’re smarter than you give yourself credit for.” He looks down at his cutting board, sliding the finished carrots to the side. He starts on the crab.

“Hux, I have a doctorate in theoretical physics. I’m plenty smart.” She gestures with her knife and he pulls back, laughing. She pulls the knife back, continuing to slice cucumbers. 

“Yes, yes. You and this doctorate. You’re very smart when it comes to science and all that stuff. We all know that. Everyone you meet knows you have a doctorate. But you don’t give yourself enough credit when it comes to my area of expertise. You could distinguish between a Rembrandt and a Munch!” 

Phasma scoffs, her cheeks turning pink, “That’s only because I _do actually listen_ to you.” 

Hux shakes his head, setting his knife down and turning to the rice maker, “Sure, sure. Whatever you say.” 

“Oh, just tell me about this portrait.” Hux doesn’t have to look at her to know she’s flushed from the compliments. He focuses on the rice for a moment, wanting to get his thoughts in order.

“Well, the client said it’s a family heirloom. And that it’s rather large,” Phasma snorts at this and Hux decidedly ignores her, “Apparently there is a rather large tear in the center of the canvas and several small tears.”

“My, what happened?” 

Hux snorts, “Oh, this is the best part. A moving company was not careful with the painting and they’ll actually be paying out of pocket for the repairs. The way my client described it, the moving company does not want to be badmouthed by this family.”

“Anybody I know?” 

Hux stops, turning to look at Phasma. He waits until she’s making eye contact with him. 

“What? Who?” 

He smirks, “The Skywalker family.” Phasma’s jaw literally drops and she smacks his chest lightly. 

“No, shut up!” 

Hux nods, “I’m serious.” He’s sure he knows exactly what’s going through her mind. Images of the Skywalker family on the red carpet, at fancy galas, donating millions to charity, dinner parties with the Queen. 

She smacks his chest again. Hux laughs, pushing her away. 

“I cannot believe you’re working for the Skywalker family!”

Hux scoffs, “I know!” 

She stops, “Wait, who did you talk to? Was it Leia? Oh, can you imagine?! The CEO of Alderaan, herself!” Phasma fans herself dreamily and Hux has to roll his eyes. 

He opens the cabinet in front of him and grabs a couple of things they’ll need. “First of all,” he says, “calm down. Second of all, I didn’t talk with Leia. I spoke with her-”

“You talked to Rey!” 

Hux chuckles, “Yes, I did. She’s incredibly sweet.” What follows is Phasma’s incessant questions about Rey and the entire exchange, most of which Hux can’t answer because he just doesn’t know. How should he know where she was when she made the phone call?

After dinner and her many questions, they sit together in the living room, both reading. Somehow he convinced her to read for pleasure instead of pouring over her books for work. He sits stretched across the couch and she has curled up on the love seat. The silence is companionable and Hux settles in the comfort of the couch and the novel. He may have read The Picture of Dorian Gray several times before but he’s started it again. It’s his favorite. 

“Wait,” Phasma says, and Hux looks up, curious, “how was your date yesterday? You got back late so I assume it was good…” 

Hux wrinkles his nose thinking back to the dreadfully boring date he had. The man was an accountant and only wanted to discuss his work. Now, Hux loves hearing people speak about their passions but three hours of math and taxes and he wanted to drown himself in the fountain in front of the restaurant they went to.

“That bad, huh,” Phasma tries to stifle her laugh but Hux narrows his eyes and she bursts, her giggles escaping. Hux leans his head on the back of the couch. 

“Every man in this city is dull.” 

Phasma throws a pillow at him and he just manages to catch it.

He tosses it back as she says, “You haven’t met every man in this city!”

Hux huffs, “Every _gay man_ in this city is dull!” Phasma snorts and puts the pillow back in its place. 

“Don’t call yourself, dull, dear. That’s not fair.”

He narrows his eyes, contemplating throwing another pillow. He doesn’t. Instead, he reminisces on how easy it use to be. During university, he could just go to a certain part of the campus and find someone to take him back to their bed. After uni, when Phasma was still going to school and he was living alone, he could just go to the club and find a handsome guy to bring back. He even managed to have a couple of steady boyfriends. 

“How did we get so old, Phas?” 

He doesn’t catch the pillow this time, doesn’t even realize she’s throwing it. 

“I am not old!” 

Hux sighs, “I am… I can’t just go down to the club and pick up a guy. They’re all in their twenties and I am closing in on forty!” 

“You’re only thirty-six, Hux.” 

“Yes, exactly!” 

Phasma chuckles, “Get an online dating profile,” Hux shudders, “Oh, I don’t know what you expect. Do you think you’ll just fall into the lap of your dream guy?” 

Hux sighs at her, glaring.

“Get a dating profile.” She goes back to her book and for a moment he actually considers it. Just a moment though.


	2. I'm Saying Goodbye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hux works in his studio, glad to finally see the painting in person. He also learns some interesting information about the family he's working for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm shocked by the response this got, so here you go! y'all motivated me to write faster than I would've

Hux arrives at his studio, thrumming with excited energy. He received an email from his assistant that the portrait arrived. He’s excited to finally see the portrait. Ms. Skywalker (please, call me Rey) said that the portrait would come in a gilded frame and Hux is excited to get his hands on the painting. He said he would get the estimation to her within the week so he needs to get started. 

The package sits, still taped together, inviting on his table. Hux smiles at it but doesn’t go to it yet. He has things to do. First, he hangs up his coat and turns on his music. Once his playlist is flowing through the speakers around the studio he gets to work. He has a few tedious paperwork things to get through and he itches to unbox the painting. But, he focuses and powers through the dull things.

Finally, finally, he stands in front of the table where the box sits. He’s pulled his apron on and rolled his sleeves up so he’s ready. He takes a deep breath and starts. 

It’s easy enough to peel the tape from the cardboard and open the box. It’s an expected anti-climatic moment. There are several layers of protection, this time around he supposes, covering the art from further damage. Hux gently nods his head along to the song playing as he slowly removes each protective layer of bubble wrap, cardboard, and paper. 

Hux gets to the last layer, the archival-quality glassine paper. He gently pulls the paper back from the painting and almost gasps when he sees the portrait. Ignoring the large gash in the canvas at his cheekbone and the little holes here and there the painting is one of the most incredible artworks he’s ever seen. 

And the frame! The frame is an intricately carved, gilt frame. He gently runs a finger down the side of the wood. 

“Hello,” he says softly, leaning closer to inspect. Rey said the portrait is of one of her ancestors, Benjamin Skywalker II. The man stands, facing the left, his face stern and serious. His posture is impeccable, his right arm behind his back. In his left hand, he holds an intricately painted rapier. Hux marvels at the details in the weapon, amazed by the depiction of the hilt. 

And the coat! One of Hux’s favorite things about art is how each painter differently depicts clothing and he is fascinated by the way the coat seems to hug each part of Benjamin. 

The subject of the painting is broad-shouldered and stern-looking. He must have been a formidable man in his lifetime. Hux thinks that it must have been intimidating to be in his presence. 

Hux is glad he’s only here in oil paint. 

With his first visual inspection finished Hux goes about removing the painting from the frame. With the frame gone he’ll be able to more closely inspect and formulate a plan on how to restore this painting to its former glory. 

  
  


Three hours later Hux stands back, popping some of his joints. Next to the painting sits his rough draft of a plan. He has to email Rey about his plan, not wanting to do anything to the painting she doesn’t want. 

And he should also eat lunch. It’s around that time, right? 

He grabs his list and moves toward his office, pausing his music on the way. Typing out the email will be quick work and he can get to enjoying his lunch. Once the email is typed out he turns on the little TV in his office for some noise. He pushes away from his desk, rolling over to his little fridge and pulling out his lunch. He continues to roll as he moves toward the microwave. He was going to bring leftover sushi but Phasma took it, so he was stuck with the stew they had a couple of nights ago. 

His phone dings as he’s waiting for the stew to heat up and he slides over to his desk, checking it. Phasma has sent him a joke a coworker told her and he just barely manages to understand it, with what little knowledge he has of theoretical physics. He sends back grievances about jokes he’s not smart enough to understand. As he rolls back toward the microwave something on the TV catches his attention. A picture is on the screen that looks strikingly familiar. The man in the photograph looks almost exactly like Benjamin Skywalker II. Hux stops, his jaw falling open. 

“-for the first time in years! Kylo Ren sported a Dolce and Gabbana suit as he walked into the Mos Eisley Cantina. The bar is run by famous LGBT plus activist couple, Finn and Poe Dameron. Ren is reported to spend many weekends at the-” 

Hux stops paying attention to the program, unsure of how he got on this gossip channel anyway, picking up his phone. 

**Hux** _**\- Who is Kylo Ren?**_

**Phasma** _**\- First of all I’m ignoring your whining about my jokes** _

**Phasma** _**\- Second of all, why**_

 **Phasma** _**\- Third of all, he’s only the excommunicated member of the family you just started working for**_

 **Hux** _**\- Wait, Kylo Ren is a Skywalker?**_

 **Phasma** _**\- No he’s a Solo but it’s the same family**_

 **Hux** _**\- I’m confused.**_

 **Phasma** _**\- And I’m not surprised just look it up**_

  
  


So, he does exactly that. 

Well, first he gets his stew. It’s lunchtime, damn it. Then he types in:

  
  


‘ _Kylo Ren Skywalker Family_ ’ 

  
  


He clicks on the first link, which sends him to a gossip magazine. He isn’t sure the source is reputable but he’s too curious. 

_ Skywalker Family Drama, Ben Solo Leaves Family Fortune Behind _

_The Skywalker Family has been around for almost as long as the Royal family. But what you may not know is the tension behind the scenes. Leia Solo (68), CEO of Alderaan and heiress to the Skywalker fortune is known for running the most successful communications company (read as internet, cable, and phone service) in the UK. Her quieter, less publicly known brother, Luke Skywalker (68), is known for mentoring several of the most prominent politicians in parliament and many successful businessmen and women. His daughter, Rey Skywalker (27), is on the path of becoming just as successful as her aunt. Han Solo (77), is probably best known for being the trophy husband of the Skywalker heiress, but can also be commended for his own business achievements. The other honorable mention of the Skywalker family is of course late Anakin Skywalker, who helped grow his family fortune by investing smartly._

_But the one to talk about today is Ben Solo (36), son to Leia and Han Solo, he was one of the most eligible, rich bachelors in all of Europe. He was to inherit his mother’s company. But according to an inside source, “Tension has been bubbling to the surface for years…” And apparently something bubbled over._

_Over the weekend the annual_ _Skywalker Charity ball_ _was held._

_(Image of Leia Solo arm in arm with her brother Luke Skywalker as they entered the ball together as they have done every year since they were 15.)_

_Among the star-studded guests, the entire Skywalker-Solo clan was there. Several guests report Han Solo and Ben Solo getting into a quiet disagreement around 9:45 pm. The next alteration was not quiet._

_Many guests say the father and son were screaming at each other in a hallway outside of the main event. A source says, “The whole family was involved. Leia was pleading with Han to calm down. Rey was trying to pull Ben from the area…”_

_That was apparently the last straw for Ben Solo, who has deleted all of his social media and has apparently ceased all contact with his family._

_An inside source, close to the family says that, “Han and Leia were very hurt by all of this. Han has practically disowned Ben._

  
  


Hux goes back to the original search results, confused. Sure, their petty family drama is interesting to some people. But what does that have to do with Kylo Ren? He clicks on the next article, checking the title to make sure it has to do with Kylo Ren. 

  
  


_ Reemerging as Kylo Ren, Abandoning the Skywalker Family Name _

_Though he was never technically a Skywalker, Ben Solo has finally decided to shed everything that tied him to his family. He has reemerged as Kylo Ren. And in fact, reportedly, hasn’t spoken to his family in months._

_Kylo Ren is_ decidedly not _Ben Solo._

_Kylo Ren does not rely on family money. Kylo Ren lives in an apartment he paid for all on his own. Kylo Ren is his own man who is going to make his own way in the world. He doesn’t want to be seen as a Solo/Skywalker forever._

_Ren has invested in several companies he is very passionate about. One is the queer-owned and run fashion company, Hoth. His only wish is to support things that matter to him._

  
  


Hux sets his phone down, finally understanding it. Kylo Ren looks like Benjamin Skywalker II because he’s directly related to him. He had no idea the Skywalker family had this much drama. Nor will he ever understand why people are so obsessed. He could admit it’s slightly interesting but the fact that a father and son haven’t spoken in months and people are obsessed with that… Hux shakes his head. 

This is why he doesn’t follow celebrity gossip.


	3. But Where Are You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hux does some more work and avoids working through Personal Things. Phasma has an idea on how to perk up her best friend but Hux isn't sure it's a good idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anybody wants Hux's playlist just ask and I'll link it!

Seeing the painting again after all he’s learned makes it a little more jarring. Hux shakes his head, gently moving the painting to its resting place in storage. He can’t work on it until he’s gotten a response from Ms. Skywalker. As he carries the painting he glances down at the subject of the portrait. Though the canvas is a little distorted from the tear the eyes are still incredibly jarring. They pierce through him and he frowns, his brow drawing together. Hux wonders how Benjamin would feel to know his descendants are feuding. Something tells him that Mr. Skywalker II would be unhappy to learn that his family is torn apart by conflict. 

Hux realizes that he’s stopped in the middle of his studio and blinks, looking up from the canvas. He shakes his head and gets back to work, not looking back down at the portrait. He nestles the painting safely into a spot where it can rest and he grabs another of his projects, another portrait, this one of a woman. 

Despite his best efforts Hux’s mind keeps drifting back to Benjamin Skywalker II and his descendants. He may not know what Kylo Ren and Han Solo were fighting about at that ball but he knows how it feels to scream at your father. He sighs, the excess breath fogging up his mask. He sets down his tools and steps away from the painting, pulling his mask off. He moves over to the window, watching the scene below his studio with vacant eyes. 

He leans his forehead against the glass, closing his eyes with a sigh. 

It’s been almost seventeen years since he last spoke to his own father. But he has no trouble recalling that very last conversation they had. The way his father’s lip curled in disgust, the way his mother’s hands shook as she cried. Hux pulls back from the window, eyes opening slowly. He takes a deep breath, pulling himself together. He remembers what he’s learned in therapy. 

He cannot change the past. He’s accepted that but it still hurts. And that’s okay. 

But he cannot let his father interrupt his work. Yes, the pain is there but he has more important things to focus on. 

  
  


Later, Hux is sitting at his desk, reading through Ms. Skywalker’s response to his questions and a rough sketch of a plan. She provides what details she can about the portrait, who the artist is, when it was painted, when it was last conserved. Hux writes down all the information on the paper he’s started. He likes to keep all of the information on one project together. 

  
  


_ Portrait of Benjamin Skywalker II _

_G. Lucas, painted estimated 1825-1840_

_Last worked on in 1977 by Kathleen Kennedy_

_Rey says go ahead with the tentative plan_

  
  


_TO DO:_

_Check painting under UV light_

_Research G. Lucas_

_Research Kennedy and 70s conservation_

  
  


Hux sits back, satisfied with that. He checks the time and is surprised to see that it’s late. Phasma might already be back in the apartment. He did spend a lot of time working on the other portrait. He quickly packs up his things, sending a quick text to Phasma to see if she’s okay with take out. He’s out of his office and on the way to the door of the studio when something stops him. 

The frame for the Skywalker portrait leans against the door to the storage. Hux distinctly remembers putting it in the other room. He was going to examine it but never got around to it. Now that he’s thinking about it he supposes he should put the frame with the painting to keep everything organized. He sets his bag down and goes over to the storage door, grabbing the frame and sliding the door open. He quickly finds the portrait and slides the frame into the slot with it. That feels right. 

Hux hurries to the door, glad Phasma has responded. 

  
  


It’s not long before Hux is bustling through the door of the apartment, bags of takeout in hand. He’s glad to see Phasma on the couch, watching TV, not doing work. Maybe his work/life balance talks have finally gotten through to her. He moves past the living room, setting the food on the dining table and piling his stuff onto one of the chairs. He turns to his roommate. 

“What are we watching?” 

Phasma doesn’t look at him as she says, “Well, you got me curious about Mr. Ren. So, I’ve been catching up on the gossip!” She grabs the remote, pausing the video. She stands and moves toward the table. 

“Anything of interest?” 

Phasma snorts, “You don’t care about celebrity gossip.” 

Hux shrugs, helping her sort and dish out food, “Well, I guess it’s more interesting when you’re working for the family.” Phasma laughs, moving past him, toward the kitchen. She opens the fridge and Hux hears clinking so he assumes she’s grabbing them drinks. He closes up boxes and grabs both plates.

“Get forks too, Phas.” He moves into the living room, settling onto the couch, putting Phasma’s plate on the coffee table. He kicks of his shoes, glad to be able to relax. 

“Here you are, love,” Phasma hands him a bottle and a fork, “So, apparently, Kylo Ren has made his first public appearance since the falling out between him and his family. Oh, he and-”

Hux shakes his head, “No, no. I read up. I know. Keep going.” 

“Alright. He is usually really good at avoiding the paparazzi. So, people think he’s purposely letting them take pictures of him.” Phasma stops to take a bite and Hux raises a brow, turning to look at the TV. On-screen is a blonde reporter who looks similar to the one he saw on the TV in his office and a picture of Kylo Ren. He looks just like he did in the first picture but the resemblance is still so jarring. 

“Why would he be doing that?” Hux genuinely can’t think of a reason one would want the paparazzi to be following them. He shakes his head minimally, taking a bite of food. 

Phasma says, “Well, no one can figure that out either. Some think he’s going to make an announcement about releasing his own brand or something like that. He’s very into fashion, you know. Other people say they think he’s going to try to get back into the good graces of his family.” This strikes a chord with Hux and he scoffs. 

“I will never understand why people are so obsessed with the family drama of celebrities. Do people not realize how painful it can be?” He glares at the TV as if the reporter on the screen will apologize to him personally. Phasma makes a soft sound. 

“Oh, Armie…” 

Hux clenches his jaw, “Phas… Don’t.” 

There’s a pause and then Phasma clears his throat. 

“Well, I think it’s all horse shit. I think he’s just tired of hiding.” 

Hux nods, not really listening as she goes into her reasoning. He looks at the picture of Kylo Ren again. There’s something in the way his jaw is set, or maybe how his brows are drawn together that Hux connects with. He almost wishes he could tell him that everything would get better, that he wouldn’t think of the pain as often and over the years the sharp edges of the conflict with round out. He sighs. 

“Wait… that building. It looks familiar.”

Phasma stops, “What?” 

Hux points, “The building in the picture. It looks familiar. What is it?” 

“Oh! That’s the Mos Eisley Cantina. We celebrated my thirtieth birthday there. Remember?” Hux thinks back and, yes, he vaguely remembers celebrating Phasma’s birthday in the cantina. He also remembers thinking they were too old to be celebrating her birthday in a bar. He wrinkles his top lip, grimacing almost. Phasma gasps. 

“We should go!” 

Hux turns to her, eyes wide. 

“We should! It’ll be fun! We could invite-”

Hux shakes his head, “Phasma, we- I am too old to be going to a club!” 

Phasma rolls her eyes, “You’re not too old. And! It’s not a club. It was back then but now the Dameron’s own it and it’s a cantina!”

“It was a cantina then-”

Phasma holds up a pillow threateningly, “It’s not a club anymore. It’s classier. You’ll like it. We can invite Tierny and Pyre! And you can invite your assistant! What’s her name again?”

“You want me to invite Kaydel?” Hux sighs. There’s no getting out of this. When Phasma sets her mind to something she gets it. Maybe it would be fun to go out. To have a couple of drinks and just _hang out_. 

“Yes!”

“Wait, when are we doing this? It’s Thursday!” 

Phasma gives him a withering look and she taps her wrist. He looks at his watch and is shocked. It’s Friday. 

“And you say _I_ have a bad work/life balance.” 

Hux frowns at her and puts his empty plate on the coffee table. 

“You aren’t wanting to do this right now are you?” He really wanted to relax tonight and going out with a group of people does not sound relaxing. Phasma is already on her phone, inviting people, he’s sure. 

“No, no. Tomorrow night. I’m going to invite some work friends is that alright?” She doesn’t wait for her answer, standing from the couch and walking away from him, “Jyn! I’m so glad you answered!” 

Hux sighs heavily, leaning his head against the back of the couch. This will be a lot. He already can tell.


	4. F*ck, I'm Lonely

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hux goes out to the Mos Eisley Cantina and actually enjoys himself

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> god, I wanted this to be up like three days ago but Hux just kept kicking me in the ass and yk what damn you ginger man but you have to suffer!

“Three beers, whatever’s on tap. A cosmopolitan. A mojito. Two sidecars, and one martini.” Hux looks up from his phone and the bartender reads the list back to him and Hux confirms. 

“What table?” 

Hux glances down at his phone, “Nineteen. And I’ve been told to put it on Jyn Erso’s tab.” The bartender nods. 

“I’ll send someone over with the drinks.” The bartender smiles and Hux nods. He turns, really taking in the cantina for the first time. When Phasma celebrated her birthday here the atmosphere was completely different. It was loud and dark and Hux absolutely hated it. He was thirty-one at the time and was definitely too old to be in a club that blasted music he’d never heard before. 

Now, the Mos Eisley Cantina caters toward an older crowd. There are more lights on, the music is loud, but you can still have a conversation without yelling. Where there used to be old, dirty booths are now dark stained wood and leather booths. There are more tables lining the dancefloor and Hux feels like he is on the verge of belonging here. When he gets back to the table everyone is in the middle of laughing at some joke and by the look on Phasma’s face, she told it. He slides into the booth next to her. 

This group looks so comfortable around each other. Hux is determined to enjoy himself tonight, so he tries to figure out what is happening in the conversations around him as people talk across the table. He feels a little out of place as the group is mostly women and the only other guy is the boyfriend of one of Phasma’s work friends. 

When he decides he’s tried long enough to join the conversation he turns and looks out at the cantina again. Something on the dancefloor catches his eye. A woman, in an incredibly sparkly dress, dances with a tall, dark-haired man. It only takes Hux a second to realize the man is Kylo Ren. He wears a strangely patterned button-up and he has the top couple of buttons open, showing plenty of his hairless, pale chest. As he watches the two gracefully twist around each other he realizes it’s three people dancing together, not just Kylo Ren and the woman. Another smaller man dances with them and at first Hux would’ve said he was there for the woman but the longer he watches the easier it is to see that both of the people are dancing around Kylo Ren. Their hands caress his arms, upper back, and chest. And Kylo doesn’t neglect either dance partner. He twists his hips in tandem with the man and turns to spin the woman with her hand. 

Hux finds himself drawn to the almost smug look on Kylo’s face, he grins as he pulls each partner close and smirks as he trades one hand for another, moving his body gracefully to the music. Hux is entranced, watching the scene play out. He can’t help but watch the almost magical way Kylo moves, by how his alluring face shows the passion of his dancing.

He’s interrupted by a waiter bringing a tray of drinks. The table cheers and the drinks are passed out. Hux sips his martini, drawn into the conversation as someone asks about his work. He smiles as he talks about what he’s been doing lately, without going into too much detail. This starts a round of people complaining about their own work and Phasma and her coworkers start regaling tales of office drama. The combination of laughter and alcohol makes Hux relax and he suddenly finds himself having a good time. 

Hux stands to let a group of ladies get up to go to the bathroom. As he waits for them to file past he glances back to the dancefloor but is disappointed to not find Kylo Ren. He looks around hoping to spot the man and almost smiles when he does. 

The VIP lounge isn’t on a second level but it’s elevated. Sitting on a plush couch, behind the velvet ropes, surrounded by women, Kylo Ren drinks something brightly colored and chats with the people around him. 

“Hey, Hux…” one of Phasma’s friends pulls Hux back to his bubble, “Any embarrassing stories about Phasma that only you would know?” Hux chuckles as he slides back into the booth. He smiles. 

“I’ve known her since uni and we’ve lived together since she’ finished school. I know plenty of embarrassing stories.” The remaining people lean closer, all excited to hear these stories. “But, you all know her so you won’t be surprised that her most embarrassing stories aren’t really about her, they’re about her exes,” Hux tells them of the time that one of Phasma’s exes tried to cook in their kitchen and almost burned it down. 

When the group comes back Hux is finishing the story and Phasma gives him a withering look but he knows she isn’t serious. As everyone gets situated into their original seats Hux starts another tale about one of Phasma’s exes. He has everyone in stitches, Phasma included. He might be exaggerating the details a little but it’s too good hearing this group laughing. Phasma has smacked his arm several times but he continues the story, smiling as the group listens intently. 

“Alright! You want to hear about embarrassing exes? I know plenty of stories,” Phasma starts. Hux leans back, already embarrassed but he’ll let Phasma tell his stories. 

Before she gets a chance to start one, Jyn Erso, one of Phasma’s close friends stands from the booth, exclaiming, “Poe!” Hux turns to look who she’s speaking to. Jyn wraps her arms around a man who’s a head taller than her. He has a five o’clock shadow and dark curly hair. He wears black skinny jeans that hug his legs in all the right places.

“That’s my name, don’t wear it out.” He hugs her back for a second and they pull back. Jyn turns to the table. Hux holds back on wrinkling his nose when he realizes the sleeves on Poe’s shirt are rolled. This man doesn’t know anything about fashion. 

“Everyone, this is the infamous-”

“Hey,” he interjects.

“-Poe Dameron. He and I go way back.” Jyn turns to smile at Poe and he knocks his arm gently into hers. 

“Hello, all. I hope you’re enjoying yourselves.” That’s when it hits Hux that this man owns the cantina. He turns to look at Phasma who looks a little starstruck. He turns back to Poe as Jyn starts to introduce everyone. To Hux’s surprise, Poe greets everyone she introduces him to with a genuine smile and a hello. 

“And this is Hux!” Jyn finishes happily. Poe turns to him. 

Since Hux is on the edge he reaches his hand out for Poe to shake, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Poe shakes his hand firmly and nods.

“It definitely is,” he smiles genuinely.

Hux watches, fascinated as Poe makes conversation with the table, smiling and laughing easily. How does someone have that much confidence, he wonders? 

“Where is your lovely husband,” Jyn asks, looking around and Poe laughs. He points to the VIP section and Hux’s gaze follows. As he looks, searching the VIP section for someone who might be Poe’s husband, he stops cold forgoing searching altogether. Kylo Ren is looking at him. 

Well, he’s probably looking at Poe Dameron. It’s very likely they know each other and why would he be looking at Hux? Still, he’s taken aback by the likeness of the man sitting across the cantina and the sitter of the portrait. 

The sharp lines of his cheekbones and jaw, the intense look on his face, the dark, luscious hair. Hux is still astonished by how beautiful the man is. The angles and lines of his face and body remind Hux of some of the great marble statues, smooth and elegant. 

“And Hux is a conservationist.” 

Hux blinks, looking to Jyn, realizing they’re talking about him. He smiles up at Poe. 

“I’m an art conservationist.” 

Poe chuckles, “Worked on any paintings I would know? You pretty up the Mona Lisa?” People laugh and Hux smiles. He shakes his head, laughing a little himself. 

“Ah, no. I’m a private contractor. I don’t do any work for museums.” 

Poe nods, “Ah, I see. Well, it was great to meet all of you. I’m so glad you’re having a good time. Please, come back. And Jyn, we need to have lunch.” He waves, starting to walk away. 

“See you later, Poe!” Jyn waves back and slides into the booth. Hux doesn’t reengage in conversation like the rest of them do, he watches Poe walk back to the VIP section. The question of who his husband is is answered as he enters the area. A black man with a huge smile on his face practically bounds over to Poe, planting a kiss on his cheek. Poe moves further into the area, smiling and laughing as he goes. 

To Hux’s satisfaction Poe moves to sit in front of Kylo Ren and starts up a conversation with him. They talk for a little and then Kylo looks over and this time Hux is sure he’s making eye contact with him. For a moment everything around him stills and quiets. Kylo smirks and turns back to Poe. Hux feels like he can’t breathe. The eye contact must’ve lasted less than five seconds but Hux felt glued to his seat. 

He was right about one thing. The intensity of Benjamin Skywalker II would have been incredible. If his descendant has that much then Benjamin Skywalker II would have been just as formidable. 

“You alright, Hux?” Phasma nudges him, her voice low. He turns to her, blinking slowly. 

“Uh, yeah,” he says, “I’m just going to get another drink.” He shows her his empty glass and stands on shaky legs, moving toward the bar. He sighs as he goes, trying to shake off the weird feeling crawling up his spine. He asks the bartender for another drink and he sits on one of the stools, his thoughts drifting as he looks down at the swirling grains of the wood. 

“What is a guy like you doing here all alone?” 

Hux turns to find an averagely attractive man leaned up against the bar next to him, smiling. He chuckles, fully turning to face the man. 

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Hux puts one elbow on the bar and matches the slant of his new friend. The man looks him up and down slowly. 

He says, “It looks like you were waiting for someone and got stood up.” 

“Well,” Hux says, flicking his eyes over to the table, making sure Phasma sees, “what if you’re wrong?” He drops his tone, low and flirty. The man blushes. 

“I’d apologize and pay for the drink you just ordered.” 

Hux smirks and points past the man to his table of friends. The man turns and Phasma waves, smiling large. The man chuckles, turning back to Hux. 

“Well, it looks like I owe you a drink.” He sits on the stool next to Hux. 

Hux sticks out his hand, trying not to laugh, “Yes, you do.” They shake hands and he says, “I’m Hux.” 

“Adam,” the man says, his cheeks still pink. Hux really looks at him as he waves the bartender down. His dark hair frames his face and his jaw is sharp. There’s something about him that is familiar. Hux grins as he turns back, handing him his drink. 

“A martini?” Adam asks. 

Hux nods, “I love a classic drink.” 

“Alright, Bond. I’ll enjoy my beer.” Adam tilts his cup to Hux and they clink glasses, “So, Mr. Bond. Are you friends going to be mad that you’re sitting here talking to me?” Hux looks past him again. Phasma silently cheers and makes a shooing gesture. Hux laughs and shakes his head at her. 

“No, apparently not. I think one of them is quite ecstatic, actually.” Hux rolls his eyes and takes a sip of his martini. 

“Well,” Adam bites his lip and his eyes slide over Hux again, “then I might just keep you all night.” 

Half an hour of talking later, Hux is letting himself be led out of the cantina by Adam. As he passes the table of his friends Phasma starts a cheer and Hux hurries Adam along, not wanting this to become a spectacle. In the cab he barely has enough time to shoot Phasma a text. 

**Hux:** _**Don’t wait up** _

  
  


He should’ve told Phasma to wait up. Hux feels a little frayed as he unlocks the door to his and Phasma’s apartment. He keeps playing those words over and over in his head. 

“ _See yourself out, pal._ ” 

Hux grinds his teeth together as he makes his way to his bedroom. He peels his shirt off and tosses it in the general direction of his hamper. He kicks off his shoes, his socks quickly following his shirt. 

How _dare_ he.

He wriggles out of his jeans, grunting in frustration as the process takes longer than he wants. He chucks them a little harder than necessary to the hamper. He doesn’t look to see if any of his clothing made it to the hamper. He’ll deal with it _later!_

Average sex. Less than average! And he-

Hux all but stomps to his bathroom, turning the shower on and glowering at himself as he waits for the water to warm up. There aren’t even any marks on his neck - or any part of his body for that matter - to prove that his miserable little one night stand even happened. 

“ _See yourself out, pal._ ” 

Hux steps out of his underwear and kicks them away. He steps into the hot stream of the shower and sighs heavily. Adam, with his average dick, average sex, average apartment! And then he has the _nerve_ to kick Hux out without so much as a, “I had fun.” Hux wants to throw something. 

But _why?_

Why does this frustrate him so much? He pushes his water-soaked hair out of his face and starts his shower routine. What did he expect from a one night stand that he didn’t get? Maybe a couple of hickeys or finger-shaped bruises, but Adam, with his average dick, average sex, and average apartment gave Hux almost precisely what he always expects from a one night stand. He glowers through the shower curtain, through the walls, eyes trained on where he expects Phasma to be sleeping right now. 

“Get a dating profile,” she said. Like it’s just that easy. “Come out with me,” she said. Like it would be fun. 

But that’s the thing, it was fun. He enjoyed telling stories, making her friends laugh, listening to them tell their own tales. Drinking with them, being around them. Being out, having fun. It _was_ fun! And Adam, with his average dick, average sex, and average apartment was just okay. Sure, he was a dick for kicking Hux out, but it was pretty clear the whole time that both of them only wanted a one night stand. 

Hux glares at his bar of soap as if it’ll give him answers. As if this is anything but his own fault. And it is. For expecting something more out of a one night stand. Hux puts his face in his hands and sighs. 

_God_ , Hux thinks, _I’m so lonely._

It’s been a while (eight months, two weeks) since Hux’s last sexual encounter. Not that he's counting. Okay, except maybe he is counting and why is that so bad. He likes to keep track of things. Numbers matter. 

Except that maybe it’s not about the sex, and maybe he’s tired of falling asleep alone, and maybe he’s tired of eating dinner with Phasma. No, he could never get tired of Phasma and the easy, comfortable routine they have. He loves Phasma. 

But maybe he wants someone to hold him. He wants someone to surprise with little gifts, he wants someone to ask about his work and care about the stupid little things. 

Hux steps under the hot water and closes his eyes. 

“Fuck,” he whispers as if the bottles in the shower give a shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come yell at me on tumblr @ira-fae


	5. Tell My Mamma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hux goes to work in his studio on a Sunday and is visited by Phasma

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the link to the magazine on twitter [Expose: An Exclusive with Kylo Ren](https://twitter.com/IraFae1/status/1248296977084887040)  
> and on Tumblr [Expose: An Exclusive with Kylo Ren](https://ira-fae.tumblr.com/post/614772913742184448/this-is-an-in-universe-magazine-for-my-fic-who)
> 
> (i finally fixed the links!)
> 
> this chapter is heavily influenced by this song [Tell My Mama by Lauv](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Plq2g3_OojE)

Hux draws his brows together, his mouth a hard line. He glares as if that’ll do something. The painting taunts him. He’ll have to spend  _ hours _ scraping and his hands and back already ache from just the thought. He sighs, going to get his respirator and turning his music off. 

“ _ It’s Sunday, Hux _ .” 

He’ll have to be fully present for this and that requires no music. 

“ _ I have a lot of work to do. _ ” 

He sits down at the table, picks up his scalpel, checks one more time that his respirator is on tight enough, and starts scraping. 

“ _ I’m stopping by for lunch. _ ”

And scraping, scraping, scraping, scraping… 

“ _ Goodbye, Phasma _ .” 

As much as Hux  _ wants _ to focus on this painting, as much as he  _ tries _ he can’t get Benjamin Skywalker II and his descendant out of his head. Hux huffs at himself, fogging up the respirator. Ridiculous is what this is. 

Once the fog has cleared he shakes his head and gets back to work. Focus. 

And scraping, scraping, scraping, scraping…

Does Kylo even know the portrait exists? He must, right? If his cousin owns it then surely… 

Hux takes a deep breath.  _ No. _

And scraping, scraping, scraping, scraping…

Seeing a portrait of an old family member as you grow up and slowly morph into said family member must be incredibly strange. The smug look on Kylo’s face as he danced with those people keeps creeping into Hux’s mind. He wants to paint it. That look. Kylo would be an excellent subject to paint. The proof is in his storage- 

“Fuck!” Hux pulls off his respirator and sets (slams) it onto the table. He stands from his stool and goes out to the front part of his studio. His nerves are still frayed from last night. And he just wanted to work in some damn peace. He slides the door to the storage open and makes his way to the portrait of Benjamin Skywalker II. As he grabs the painting, the stern look of the sitter seems to mock him. 

“Oh, shut up,” Hux grumbles. He stalks back to the backroom of the studio and quickly puts the portrait on an easel. He glares at it as he pulls his respirator back on. 

And… it’s easier now. He can scrape for as long as his mind is capable and then glance up at the portrait to distract himself on purpose. It’s a rhythm, a pattern, and it makes it easier. Scraping is mind-numbing and Hux finds hours have passed, not that the progress he’s made with the painting seems to reflect that. He decides it’s time for a break. 

He takes off his respirator again and sets (yes, actually sets) it on the table, moving from the backroom to the front. There are more windows in this part of the studio, letting in enough natural light that Hux sometimes feels like he doesn’t even need to turn the overhead lights on. He quickly steps into his office to grab a water bottle and he moves to stand in front of the windows. There is a little park across the street and Hux can  _ almost _ see the appeal of a landscape over a portrait when he looks at the park and how the little bit of Croydon frames it. 

He wonders idly if Kylo Ren lives in Croydon.  _ Probably _ , considering he’s been spotted in The Mos Eisley Cantina several times. Though, Croydon is only thirty minutes by train from London. But the rest of his family lives in London and if he’s anything like Hux then he probably wanted to get away after the blowup. 

Hux feels a creeping sense of shame. This isn’t something he’s thought about in a long time. He left behind the shame, sadness, anger a long time ago. His father used up every chance he had for redemption and when Hux left for uni there was a fight bigger than the one between Han Solo and Kylo Ren. Hux flexes his fists as he remembers. 

How unfair that his relationship with his father came to blows, how unfair that he had no one to turn to, how unfair that he had to watch every step in that house, how unfair that-

No. 

Hux closes his eyes and takes a deep breath in through his nose. 

_ One, two, three _ … He blows it out his mouth, his lips shaking. Hux decided long ago that Brendol Hux’s actions were deplorable and they weren’t going to hold sway over him once he left that house. And he refuses to go back on that. 

But what hurts him most is that he had to leave his mother. One of the sweetest people in the world, sobbing as he stepped out the door, never to return. 

Why does his father get to take that too? He took so much from him. Why does he get to take his mother from him? 

Damn it, Hux has spent too many years avoiding her because of that wretched man. And he misses her. Hux decides then and there, finding it relatively easy to make up his mind, that he’s going to reach out. He’s going to try and repair the damage he made all those years ago. 

He suddenly realizes there are tears rolling down his cheeks. Hot tears, streaking down his face. Hux chuckles sadly. 

As he wipes his tears there’s a knock on the door. He takes a deep breath and goes to let Phasma in. She doesn’t ask and he’s grateful for it. 

As per usual she climbs up onto one of the empty tables and spreads out their lunch. He listens to her chatter, happy for the distraction from heavy topics. There’s another of their comfortable silences when Phasma suddenly gasps.

“Oh, my God! Hux!” She reaches over and smacks his shoulder. He makes an indignant noise, trying to keep his mouth full of food closed. He swallows and glares at her, not really meaning it. 

“Phasma, honestly,” he huffs. She ignores him, reaching for her bag. She rifles around for a little bit and pulls a glossy magazine out. She hands it to him. 

“Thought you might find this interesting,” she smirks. Hux looks down and is surprised to see a familiar face on the cover. Kylo Ren stares up at him from the glossy paper. His face is set, serious, the expression so eerily similar to the portrait. 

_ EXCLUSIVE _ , the magazine boasts,  _ Who Is Kylo Ren; a deep dive with the infamous member of the Skywalker clan on his life since his departure and the future of the name Ren. _

Hux snorts derisively. 

“The future of…” he trails off, opening the magazine to find the article. He flips articles about useless things, past the article about Hoth. He stops when he lands on the two-page title of this article. “Have you read it yet?” Hux asks, looking up at Phasma. She shakes her head, taking another bite. 

“Read it to me,” she says after swallowing. Hux looks back at the magazine. He flips to the next page, eyes scanning. “This is why he let the paps take his picture.” Hux snorts in lieu of saying, “No shit, Phasma.”

“ _ Most of you can probably remember the argument that led to the split of the Skywalker/Solo Clan, _ ” Hux sighs, “No, I was too busy dealing with my own shitty father,” he continues, “ _ It was 2006. The annual Skywalker Charity Ball was happening. For the public, the event was as grand and beautiful as usual. But behind the scenes, there was unimaginable tension between father and son. There have been countless versions of the tale of what happened that night but Kylo Ren says it doesn't matter. What matters to him is that the past stays past and he moves on with his life. _ ”

Phasma snorts above him and he stops, “He sounds kind of pretentious.” Hux makes a vague gesture. He’s not sure he agrees.

“Those aren’t his words, Phas. I’ll keep going. He answers questions. I’m skimming,” he rakes his eyes over the pages, looking for something interesting. “Alright, the question is,  _ ‘How has being who you are affected your pursuits? _ ’ And he says,  _ ‘It's easy for people to look at me and see my mother or my father, but I have worked very hard to establish who I am in regards to my work. For several years it was difficult but I'm at the point now where people see me as Kylo Ren. _ ’ Hmm” Hux feels a warm sensation in his chest. He can sympathize with Ren. He would absolutely detest being associated with his father. He didn’t think to completely change his name. He just stopped going by his awful given name. The one his father would snap at him like an insult. Hux shakes his head. 

“Maybe I was quick to judge,” Phasma says, shrugging. “Keep going.” 

Hux flips to the next page and sighs, “I’m not reading this whole art- Wait, Phas, he’s talking about Poe Dameron. Phasma!” 

“Well, read it to me!” 

“‘ _ People may know Finn and Poe Dameron, a couple who has done incredible things for the LGBT+ community _ ’ Blah, blah- Oh, here we go, ‘ _ Regardless, they have become some of my closest friends and I wanted to do something more for the community. They suggested that I help create more spaces for the community and that's precisely what we're doing. I now currently own ten clubs, pubs, bars, whatever you want to call them. To name a few; The Mos Eisley Cantina, Yavin 4, Tatooine... They are all part of The First Order. _ ’” Hux looks up at Phasma to see her jaw hanging open. Yes, that’s about how he feels as well.

“He owns Mos Eisley?!” Phasma practically shouts. Hux pulls back. Wait a moment. When they were there,  _ yesterday _ , Kylo Ren was there. The  _ owner _ . Did he buy it from Poe and Finn or do they all own it or-

“Phasma, he was there!” Hux says, pointing to the magazine.

“He was,” Phasma agrees. Hux shakes his head. This is… He doesn’t know what this is. He was stunned to meet Poe when he knew that  _ he _ owned the cantina. But now Hux is realizing that maybe Poe  _ doesn’t _ own the cantina and maybe Kylo Ren was there because he  _ does _ . 

“Phasma! We were there! He was there! He was dancing! He- And Poe came to our table all smiles and-” 

“I’m glad to see you’re finally taking an interest in celebrity gossip,” her tone is all smug and sass. She pauses, her face thoughtful, “You start working for the Skywalkers and then we go to the cantina that a  _ Solo _ owns! You just can’t get away from them, can you?” Phasma chuckles, picking the magazine up. Hux shakes his head. He turns and stalks out of the room, needing to see the portrait. He stares at the broad shoulders, the stern look, the large, slightly crooked nose, the intricately carved sword. 

“What the fuck,” he says softly to the portrait. Phasma walks in behind him. She comes to stand next to him. 

“Holy shit,” she says, leaning closer to look at the portrait, “Are you sure this isn’t a painting of Kylo Ren,” Hux grumbles. The eyes, the posture, the slight downturn of his lips. 

“Honestly? No…” He sighs, glaring at the man. Phasma shifts around, looking at the painting from different angles. Hux shakes his head, feeling like he’s on pins and needles. This whole situation is weird. 

“Holy shit,” Phasma repeats. Yes, that’s about how he feels as well. 

Later, when Hux is alone in his studio again, working on scraping the polyurethane, he sighs. He looks up at the portrait. It hasn’t changed, the face still in that stern expression. Hux shakes his head, deciding it’s time to be done for the day. He sweeps the table clean and puts both paintings back where they go, also putting away his respirator. He does a double-check of the studio, making sure everything is put in its neat and orderly.

He wants to call his mother before he leaves. His studio is the most private place to do something like this. He set his phone on the table earlier while he was checking, wanting to be able to come back to it. He paces in front of it, hands sweaty. 

“Okay,” he says softly to himself. He steps over to the phone and with shaking fingers, pulls up his mother’s contact. 

_ Maratelle Hux _

He practically drops (throws) his phone back onto the table, and he finds it’s harder to breathe. What if… What if she hates him? What if she never wanted to speak with him ever again. What if…

“Okay,” he says again. He moves back to the table. The only thing he can do is try. He clicks the call button and lets out a sound of shock. He sets the phone back down, feeling dizzy. 

Except that it’s calling. He picks it back up and puts it up to his ear. He starts pacing again, hands still shaking.

_ First ring. _

Hux thinks back to her teary-eyed face, her pleas. 

_ Second ring _ .

Her repeated attempts to call him when he went off to university. 

_ Third ring. _

The shame in his stomach as he changed his number. 

_ Fourth ri- _

“Hello?”

Hux’s voice breaks as he says, “Mother?” 

There’s silence on the other line and then a small gasp, “Armitage? Is that you?”

He squeezes his eyes closed, willing himself not to cry, “Yes, it’s me.” There’s more silence and then a muffled sob. Hux’s heart fractures.

“Oh, Armie! Baby,” she’s talking through tears, “how are you? Where are you? How have you been doing? Oh, I’ve missed you.” He lets out a shuddery breath, a smile pulling up the corners of his frown. He opens his eyes, he can’t hold back his own tears. 

“Mother. I’m- I’ve missed you too.” 

There’s another sound, choked and weak. Hux shakes his head, shame filling his whole chest. 

“Oh, baby. I thought you would never call.” 

“I- I know. I’m-” no, he stops himself, he can’t say that over the phone. “I was hoping we could get lunch sometime. Catch up.” He sounds weak, voice shaking. But it’s his mother, so he lets it happen. She gasps.

“Armie! Of course! As soon as possible. What about tomorrow?”

Hux chuckles, his chest easing, “Absolutely. You pick the place and I’ll pay.”

“What about Mère de la Mer? At one-thirty?” 

Hux’s smile grows, “I’ll see you there.” He might have to take an hour out of his day for the train to and back from London, but it’ll be worth it. He cannot wait for tomorrow to come. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come yell at me on Tumblr [@ira-fae](https://ira-fae.tumblr.com/)


	6. So, The World Goes By

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hux goes to London to meet his mother for lunch and she shares surprising news

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't love this chapter but i also would like for kylo to make an ACTUAL appearance so we're swiftly moving along

He spends the entire train ride reminding himself to breathe. His hands shake as he thinks about seeing his mother in the flesh. Their phone call was brief and Hux has so many things he wants to say to her. Apologies and explanations and- 

The train shudders to a halt. He stands, wiping his hands on his pants. He could take a cab to the restaurant but, he looks at his watch, no. He has plenty of time. It’ll be nice to walk through the city. In spite of himself, he does miss London a little. 

Before long he’s standing in front of Mère de la Mer, his heart hammering in his chest. He checks his phone (01:25). Perfect. He should be seated and ready when his mother gets here. The restaurant looks just as he remembers. White walls, gold and peach accents. It’s just the kind of thing his mother loves. The host, a blonde with her hair pulled back into an immaculate bun, smiles at him with blinding white teeth. 

“How can I help you today, sir?” 

“A reservation under the name Hux,” he says. She nods and looks down at her station. Hux looks down at the marble floor and takes a deep breath. 

“Yes, follow me, sir,” she says, leading the way. As he walks into the dining room it’s hard to resist scrunching his nose up at the sight. All of the guests are the sort of posh people his family hangs around. He hasn’t been around this crowd of people unless it’s for work. Unless he can avoid it. She shows him to a table near the back and he smiles at her. Before she leaves, he tells her to expect his mother, giving her a short description.

The menus, the pristine table cloths, the perfectly set table. Everything here is in perfect condition. He can’t help but roll his eyes at the preset dishes. They’re going to be taken away, never even used. How unnecessary. 

He waits, tapping his foot anxiously, glancing around. Despite not liking the atmosphere of the people around him, he dressed to impress. His slacks are freshly pressed - by himself,  _ thank you very much _ \- his shoes are shined, his hair slicked back. He fits in. 

His phone buzzes and he jumps. It’s just a text from Phasma. 

**Phasma -** **_Good luck, it’ll go great_ **

He sure hopes so. 

“Armie?” 

He turns, his heart thudding in his chest. There she is. Maratelle Hux, his mother. He stands quickly, his breath shortening. She looks mostly the same. She has a few more wrinkles and her hair has faded from the bright coppery shade of his hair to a lighter, rosy color. She smiles, her eyes going red. He reaches and she immediately steps forward. He wraps his arms around her and puts his head on top of hers. He sighs shakily. 

The break and he helps her into her seat, pushing it in for her. They don’t speak until he’s sitting in his seat. There’s a nervous energy around the table. He swallows. 

“I… It’s good to see you, Mother.” He breathes in and out, shakily. 

She reaches over and takes his hand, “You too, Armie. It’s so good to see you too.” 

They’re silent again, but this time it’s with a sense of familiarity. Hux’s breathing eases, his leg settling. It feels like coming home. The server interrupts. 

“Hello,” she says, another woman with a blinding white smile and impeccable hair, “I’m Rachel and I’ll be your server today. Welcome to  Mère de la Mer, can I start you off with some drinks. Hux clears his throat, picking up the wine list. 

“Care to share a bottle,” he asks, glancing up at his mother. She blushes lightly. 

“Ah, no. Just water for me,” she says, looking up at Rachel. 

Hux furrows his brow momentarily, “I’ll have a glass of your best red. Thank you.” The server nods and makes her exit. Hux looks back to his mother, his gaze questioning. 

“I…” she starts, seeming unsure, “I’ve actually been sober for ten years.” Hux lets his mouth drop open, his chest surging with pride. 

“Wow, that’s incredible. Should- Should I not have-” 

Maratelle raises her hand, “No, no, sweetheart. You’re fine. My answer might have been different a few years ago but… No.” 

“You’re sober,” he says softly and she nods. “Things really have changed.” 

“Yes,” she mirrors his tone, a look of shame on her face. 

“Well,” there’s no point in dwelling on the past, “I’m glad we could do this. I have- I have so much to tell you.” And he does. And she listens. He tells her about university, about Phasma, about his love life (or lack thereof), about his work (she really does have about a million questions about his work). They talk, only stopping to order and for the occasional bite of food or sip of drink. Hux continues talking, encouraged by the wide smile on his mother’s face. She asks questions about everything, her interest clear in her push for more details, more explanation. 

“And I have a couple of projects at the moment. A few landscapes and two portraits.” He pauses, thinking to one of the portraits, of the dark, intense eyes. 

“I would love to come and visit your studio, dear. I can’t believe you live in Croydon!” She laughs, shaking her head. There is a quiet pause as Maratelle looks at him, her eyes full of love. “You really have grown up, Armitage. I’m- I’m so proud of the man you have become.” Hux gulps, biting his lip as his eyes start to water. He clears his throat, blinking away tears. 

“I- thank you. And, Mother I-” he stops, looking down at his plate, “I am…” No, he has to look up, to look her in the eyes, “I am so sorry,” he whispers. “I am sorry for any pain I caused you. I am sorry for leaving and not ever returning your calls. I am sorry for- for changing my number. I-” She puts her hand over his and he stops, throat tight and tears threatening to spill over. She shakes her head biting her lip. 

“You did what you had to do. It hurt me,” he opens his mouth to say something but she puts her hand up, “but I understood. I… I should be apologizing. All those years I just watched. And he- I just let it happen, Armie. I’m sorry.” Hux grabs her hand and they sit there, both trying to will away tears. He takes a deep breath. 

“It wasn’t your fault,” he whispers. She shakes her head. “It wasn’t. You tried. But what could you have done? He would’ve…” He trails off. They both know  _ exactly _ what  _ he would have done. _ He  _ did _ do it. Several times. And eventually, Maratelle learned her lesson and Hux would never,  _ never  _ in a million years blame her for that. 

There’s more silence and Hux opens his mouth, ready to ask when-

“I’m glad to see you enjoyed everything. Would you like dessert?”

Hux looks up at her, “A crème brûlée for myself and a chocolate mousse for the lady.” With that Rachel is gone. He turns back to his mother, she’s smiling from ear to ear. 

“You remembered,” she whispers, her voice breaking. 

“How could I forget?” He clears his throat, looking down and wiping his hands on his napkin. “I wanted to… Well, how is he?” He looks up to find a confused expression on his mother’s face. “My father. How is he?” She laughs quietly and Hux draws his brows together.

“Oh,” she says, shaking her head, “I forgot you wouldn’t know. We- We’re divorced, darling. I haven’t seen Brendol,” he reflexively flinches, “in… Oh, three years.” He knows he’s gaping but he can’t help it.

“What?” 

And so his mother starts the sordid tale of how his father was cheating on her with a  _ kitchen woman _ and how it was the messiest divorce ever. He tried to drag everything out, begging her repeatedly to stay with him. 

“And now I have the townhouse and half his earnings coming into my bank account every two weeks.” She gives him a cheeky smile and Hux scoffs. 

He can only murmur, “Wow.” 

“Well, I mean, it will take your father a while to fully pay the several million pound settlement the judge ended on.” She shrugs, a smirk on her face, “It would’ve been less if your father had kept his mouth shut. But, he couldn’t help bad mouth me and it wound up in the ears of the wrong people.” 

“Good for you,” Hux grins with her. Oh, how he would’ve loved to have seen his father’s face when the judge gave his decree. 

The conversation turns to much lighter topics after that. Hux can only chat this freely with Phasma, it’s a wonderful feeling. His mother is brighter and happier than he’s ever seen her and it’s incredibly refreshing. 

Hux leads her out of the restaurant after dessert, her hand on his elbow, chatting and joking with her. She called a car as he paid the bill and it stands, idle on the road, waiting for her. He leans down and kisses her cheek. 

“We must do this again, darling.”

Hux smiles wide, “Yes, definitely.” She starts to turn to the car but stops. She turns back to him and grabs his hand, squeezing it.

“I want you to know, Armitage, that I will always love you. No matter what. No matter where you live, no matter what you do, no matter who your friends are, and especially,  _ especially _ , no matter who you love.” She pats his hand one more time and gets into the car. Hux feels like he can’t breathe. She smiles as the car pulls off. She… 

He really does cry, only a few tears, as he walks back toward the train station, but he can’t help it. Nothing can ruin this good mood. 

Not even the fact that he missed the most recent train and has to wait half an hour for the next. Not even the fact that the car he’s on is full of loud, obnoxious teenagers. Not even that he has to go back to another few hours of scraping in his studio. 

Not even that! 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come yell at me on Tumblr [@ira-fae](https://ira-fae.tumblr.com/)


	7. I've Gone Vacant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hux invites Rey Skywalker to the studio for a few questions about the frame the portrait came in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the link to the magazine as it is mentioned again  
>  on twitter [Expose: An Exclusive with Kylo Ren](https://twitter.com/IraFae1/status/1248296977084887040)  
> and on Tumblr [Expose: An Exclusive with Kylo Ren](https://ira-fae.tumblr.com/post/614772913742184448/this-is-an-in-universe-magazine-for-my-fic-who)

_ Dear Ms. Skywalker,  _

_ The portrait has been repaired and is in the process of retouching. I am sure that by the end of the day I will be finished with that work. The painting is in wonderful condition, but I have a question. The frame the painting came in is beautifully carved but incredibly worn. The guilting has almost worn off completely and the wood could use a little work. I would like to do this work for you but I wouldn’t touch it without your permission.  _

_ I would like you to come by the studio before you make your decision. I think seeing the painting cleaned and fixed may sway your judgment.  _

_ Also, if you do decide that I should do this work I would like your opinion as to what level I restore the frame. And I would like you to see it before you make that decision also.  _

_ I can allot for you to stop by at your convenience. Just say a date and I’ll put it into the calendar.  _

_ Respectfully, _

_ Hux _

_ Tarine Fine Art Restoration and Conservation  _

Hux stands in front of the finished portrait and a chill runs up his spine. Benjamin Skywalker II, fully restored, is a masterpiece. He sighs, glad the work is finished and he can see the painting as the artist meant to see it. He gently moves the painting back to its place in storage and grabs the frame. 

The frame is one of the most intricately carved frames that he’s seen, but it’s done subtly. You don’t see the true beauty of it unless you really look close and know what you’re looking at. The sad state of it takes away from its beauty, the chipped gold and the worn wood makes the frame look it’s age. And now that the painting looks better he hopes that Rey will agree the frame needs work. 

_ Dear Hux,  _

_ I’m ecstatic to hear that you’ve finished working on the portrait. I will most likely agree with whatever you think is necessary for the frame, but I will come to your studio.  _

_ I am available on Tuesday. That would be on 6 May. Does that work for you? _

_ Sincerely, _

_ Rey Skywalker _

Hux adjusts his cuffed sleeves, wipes his hands on his apron, and takes a deep breath. There’s a knock at the door. He starts toward the door and stops. He should take the apron off. He quickly pulls it over his head and tosses it on the coat rack. He smoothes his shirt and breathes out. He slides the door open, a wide smile on his face. 

Rey Skywalker surprises him. All the pictures he’s seen of her she’s had her hair up in an elaborate hairdo. The woman who stands before him has a short bob, one side tucked behind her ear. She wears business casual clothing. Black slacks that end above her ankle. Her blouse is white and flowy. Her coat hangs off her shoulders, the way only someone very fashionable would wear it. She sticks out her hand, smiling. 

“Rey Skywalker,” she says as they shake, her grip firm, “Nice to finally meet you.” He nods once. 

“Hux. Yes, it is. Please, come in.” He gestures for her and she steps into the studio. He watches as she surveils the place, her head tilting up as she looks at the ceiling, and the glancing left toward the backroom. 

“Let me take your coat,” he says, moving to stand beside her. She shrugs off her coat, it easily falling off her shoulders, and hands it to him. 

“Oh, would you…” She trails off, her purse offered out to him. He nods and takes both to the coat rack. He tries not to think about the fact that he’s putting her (very much likely) name brand coat and purse near his dirty work apron. 

“So,” he says, leading her to the table where the painting and the frame lie, “here they are.” He turns, watching her reaction. Her eyes light up and a wide smile pulls across her face. She leans closer, studying the painting. 

“Oh, this is incredible. You can’t even tell there’d been a hole!” She chuckles, looking at the place on Benjamin’s face where it had been punctured. Her voice is smooth, soft, like a delicate chocolate truffle. She straightens, grinning, “Truly wonderful!” 

He smiles, bowing his head a little, “Thank you.” He gestures to the frame, “As you can see, though. Having the painting just  _ next _ to the frame, that it’s a stark contrast. And not in a good way.” Rey looks between the two, humming. She pulls her lip between her teeth. He can understand why men might be obsessed with her. Her features are delicate, almost like that of a porcelain doll. 

“Yes… Yes, I can see what you mean,” she says, turning to look at him, “The frame does look quite sad now.” He chuckles. 

“Well, I can fix that. You see here,” he points to the bottom left corner, “how the gold is flaking off? I can reapply gold to make it look brand new.” 

Rey draws her eyebrows together while she looks back at the frame, “Well, I’m not sure I would want it to be  _ brand _ new.” 

“That’s understandable. I can age it a little. Let me grab my samples for you.” He moves over to his cabinet and grabs the little bin he has of frame samples for this specific reason. He sets the bin on the table beside the frame and they go to work on deciding which coloring will be best for the frame and the painting. It doesn’t take long for them to find one they agree on.

“Yes, that’ll be perfect. I think my aunt will love it.” Rey smiles brightly. Hux can’t help but smile too, her cheer infecting him. 

“Oh, does the painting not belong to you?” 

Rey blushes, “No… I took charge of this project because it happened on my watch. I was helping her, my aunt,” she says that softer, and Hux knows she worries that she’s saying too much, “move. So…” Hux nods, ready to move on. 

“I forgot!” Rey exclaims. Hux turns, watching her scurry to the coat rack, eyes wide. She digs through her purse and turns back to him, “I’m so stupid. I can’t believe I forgot.” She walks back over to him, something golden and wiry-looking in her hand. She stops in front of him and holds out… a key? The head of the golden key is intricately carved and looks remarkably familiar. There is a tattered, red ribbon tied around the stem of the thing. 

“Uh,” is all he can manage. Rey chuckles, shaking her head. 

“Of course,” she says, setting the key down on the table and turning to the portrait, “you don’t know. Why would you?” She grabs the left side of the frame and lifts it up. She runs her fingers under the outside lip of the frame, “You didn’t grow up hearing the- Ah! Here it is.” She hooks a finger into something and tugs. Hux jerks, panic seizing him. A piece of the frame detaches and something lodges into his throat. 

“Don’t-” he stops himself. This does technically belong to her, but- She’s pulling it… out? She turns to him, her face cheery as ever. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I should have- It’s just a compartment. It’s meant to do that.” She chuckles, holding up the small box she’s just pulled out of the frame. He furrows his brows, thoroughly confused. 

“What?” 

She looks at the box, fondness coming across her delicate features, “There’s a long story that I won’t bore you with but… This is a secret compartment for the key. We think the portrait and its frame were used as a little secret door. As an old-timey safe.” She picks up the key and drops it into the little compartment. 

“A secret door?” Hux shakes his head. Oh, the secrets of family heirlooms. Rey chuckles. She pulls the key out and sets the compartment down. 

“Now, if I can…” she leans down, eyes close to the bottom-right edge of the frame. “Hah! Here it is, found it!” Rey, to Hux’s shock, puts the key into a keyhole and turns it. “We think it was made because he,” she gestures to Benjamin, “was very secretive.” She waggles her eyebrows at Hux, giggling. He can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. 

“How odd,” he murmurs, picking up the compartment.

Rey harrumphs, “You can say that again. I found the key in my other purse and I realized I had forgotten to put it back in the portrait. I would be in a very bad way if my aunt found out I’d lost the key.” She chuckles, turning the key and pulling it out of the frame. 

“Well, I’m glad you’ve brought it back.” He says, smiling. She hands him the key. Hux holds both pieces in his hands, marveling at the craftsmanship of both. 

“I’m sorry to impose but… Could I use your loo?” 

Hux turns to her, finding a light blush on her cheeks. He smiles and nods. He sets down the key and compartment and leads her to his office, “Just right through that door,” he points. 

“Thank you.” 

Hux moves back to the frame. The fact that he didn’t notice the compartment just shows how well this was crafted. He picks up the key and turns it gently in his hand. The metal is cold but the red, velvet ribbon is so smooth. It’s then that he realizes the head of the key looks so familiar because it’s carved almost identical to the hilt of the sword that Benjamin holds. Hux makes a soft noise and picks up the little box.

He puts the key into the compartment and gently slides it back into the frame. When it clicks into place a chill runs through his hand and up into his arm. The feeling slides through his entire body and is gone in an instant. He shakes his head. 

He turns, realizing Rey has been gone a while. Should he check on her? What is the boundary here? He takes a half step toward his office but stops when he hears a sniffle. Then another. Is she… Crying? 

Hux moves quickly to his office. Stand beside his desk, holding something in her hands, stands Rey, tears in her eyes. Hux swallows. He’s not equipped to deal with this. She notices him and jumps. She turns the thing in her hands to him, showing him the magazine with Kylo Ren on the cover. 

_ Shit.  _

“What is this?” she asks softly, her voice breaking. He’s  _ really _ not equipped to deal with this. He opens his mouth, really intending to say something. But his moth just flops open and closed like a fish out of water. That’s precisely how he feels right now. Rey shakes her head and starts flipping through the magazine. She stops, presumably when she gets to the article, her head moving back and forth as she scans the article. 

“Oh, Ben…” she whispers softly. Hux rubs his hands on the sides of his pants, searching for something to say. 

“Are you alright?” Well, that could’ve been so much better. It also could have been worse, though. Rey shakes her head.  _ Oh, dear _ , Hux thinks drearily. 

“He… He didn’t even call me,” Rey chuckles, but this time it’s a sad, broken sound, “He was like my brother, you know.” She’s still looking at the magazine and Hux isn’t sure she’s actually speaking to him, “When we were growing up… I spent more time with him than anyone else. When he left-” she breaks off suddenly and she looks up at him, her eyes scared. Hux looks down. 

“I…” she starts, “Can I take this?” Hux looks up, surprised. She holds out the magazine, looking away from him, down at the floor. He nods and immediately realizes how dumb that is. 

“Yes,” he says softly, “yes, of course.” Rey nods and moves out of the office, brushing past him. She’s putting her coat on when he gets to her. 

“I’ll, uhm,” she clears her throat, grabbing her purse, “I’ll hear from you when you’ve finished?” Rey keeps her eyes away from him, looking to the side. 

“Yes. Or if I have any more questions.” 

Rey nods once, curt, “Alright. Goodbye, then.” Hux moves ahead of her and pulls the door open. 

“Goodbye,” he says softly. She walks out, head held high. Her coat rests on her shoulders, her purse sits on her forearm, and the magazine is clutched tightly in her other hand. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come yell at me on Tumblr [@ira-fae](https://ira-fae.tumblr.com/)


	8. Deliver Him There

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Staunchly ignoring Phasma's insistence that they celebrate his birthday, and all her birthday texts, Hux goes to his studio to finish the Benjamin Skywalker II restoration.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh my GOD, here you go holy shit

“And she looked like she had seen a ghost,” Hux shakes his head, leaning back against the couch, his eyes distant. Phasma sighs. 

“What did you say?” 

Hux looks up at her, almost snorting, “Pretty much nothing! What was I supposed to say? I’m sorry your cousin hasn’t spoken to you in years and that the media drags out your family’s pain whenever it will make them a shilling.” Phasma shakes her head at him, taking a sip of her drink. 

“I can’t believe she hadn’t seen it…” 

“It was awful, Phas,” Hux says, “she was so shaken.” 

“I can’t even imagine going that long without talking to my brothers. I love those tossers.” 

Hux shakes his head, taking a drink. Rey’s face is stuck in his head, how heartbroken she looked, how she clutched the magazine. How could Kylo Ren do that to her? She’s so sweet. Hux’s stomach twists. 

“What if you were the one in the wrong?” he asks, he starts to pick at the label of his beer with his thumbnail. He looks up at Phasma and she’s chewing on her bottom lip. 

“I…” she pauses, “I mean it obviously depends but… I think I would. I love my brothers so,” she shrugs, “I would apologize if that’s what it took.”

“I just… I wish I could have done more for her.” He looks back at his beer bottle. This whole situation is weird. He doesn’t have any right to do anything more than he’s already done. He doesn’t even know why Kylo Ren doesn’t talk to his family anymore. 

“Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask you. How is everything with your mother going?” 

Hux looks up, a smile pulling up the corners of his mouth, “Oh, really well. She loves to call me during work and tell me all about the drama of her bridge club. I just put her on speaker while I work and listen to her talk. It’s… It’s actually very nice.”

Phasma coos, “Oh, you big sap! That’s adorable! I’m so glad you called her.” 

Hux smiles, “Me too.”

He thinks about his mother’s face, how happy she was to see him. 

His stomach twists further as he ponders what would have happened if he hadn’t called her. What if he had gone the rest of her life talking to her? What if the next phone call he got about his mother was to notify him that she had passed. He stands suddenly. Phasma is staring. 

“I… Do you want to watch a movie?” he asks, setting his beer bottle down. 

“Uh, sure.” 

“We’re watching  _ The Picture of Dorian Gray _ ,” he says, moving to set it up. Phasma groans. 

“I’m only allowing this because Colin Firth is attractive!” 

During the movie, Hux can’t focus. He’s peeled the entire label off of the beer bottle and has started working on rubbing off the leftover adhesive off. He keeps biting the inside of his bottom lip as well. He keeps thinking about Rey Skywalker and Kylo Ren. This is precisely why he doesn’t like celebrity gossip. Not only does it allow the press to parade celebrities around like animals but it also ruins any form of privacy that they might have. Especially for people like Rey and Kylo. They didn’t ask for fame. They were born into it. They are forced to be part of the celebrity circus just because of who their parents are. 

Now, Hux is worried about the emotional welfare of one of his clients. And that’s something he never wanted to do. He sighs quietly, trying not to disturb Phasma (who is incredibly engrossed in the movie. Hux rubs a hand over his face and tries to focus on the movie. 

Later, he and Phasma are standing side by side washing and drying dishes respectively. Phasma is humming something softly under her breath and Hux is not to think of anything at all. Especially not the sharp, attractive angles of Kylo Ren’s face, or the gentle, worried lines of Rey Skywalker’s face. 

“So, your birthday is soon,” Phasma says, breaking Hux our of his reverie. He scoffs. 

“And…” 

“Well, I was thinking that we could do something small, maybe just dinner with your mother-” 

Hux huffs, “Absolutely not. You know I don’t celebrate my birthday. Making amends with my mother doesn’t change that.” He scrubs particularly hard at the plate he’s washing. Phasma clicks her tongue. 

“I just think that-” 

“I don’t care what you think. My feelings on this have not changed.” With that Hux puts the clean plate, the last one thankfully, in front of her and leaves the kitchen. He closes his bedroom door a little harder than necessary. He doesn’t understand why she thinks he would’ve changed his mind. Years of birthdays have gone uncelebrated. Phasma had been friends with Hux for three years before she even found out when his birthday was. 

He neatly puts away his clothing and pulls on his pajamas, fuming. He makes his way to his bathroom.  _ Who does Phasma think she is _ , he thinks as he brushes his teeth. He glares at his reflection in the mirror. 

Birthdays are a stupid thing to celebrate anyway! 

-

**Maratelle Hux:** **_Happy birthday, love! I hope your day treats you well! xo_ **

**Phasma:** **_Happy birthday_ **

**Phasma:** **_I bought cupcakes for you but I knew you wouldn’t want them so I gave them to my coworkers_ **

**Phasma:** **_They say thank you_ **

Hux has a couple of other birthday texts but they all go steadfastly ignored. Of course, later he will send them all a succinct and perfunctory, ‘Thank you.’ But that’s as far as he’s going to acknowledge what this Godforsaken day is supposed to be. And he won’t be saying anything to Phasma. Damn that woman. 

He moves through his studio loudly, huffing out each breath dramatically. Who cares if it’s the twelfth of May? Who cares if that was the day he was no longer in utero? Why does it all  _ matter _ so God damn much. When he gets to the portrait of Benjamin Skywalker II Hux feels a little judged. The man glares and Hux huffs out another dramatic breath. The unchanging glare makes him feel like a petulant child. 

“Well, it  _ doesn’t _ matter,” he mutters, glaring back at the portrait, “it’s just another day.” When the portrait doesn’t respond Hux throws his hands up in the air. This whole thing is ridiculous. He’s talking to a damn portrait. He grabs the thing and moves back to the front room of the studio. 

He’s finished with the frame and he’s ready to put it all back together. Benjamin Skywalker II is  _ definitely _ much more formidable now that he is all clean and repaired, and as the frame settles around him Hux is reminded again of that feeling he had on the first day. He’s  _ still _ glad Benjamin Skywalker II is just a painting. Hux thinks that it must be intimidating to stand in front of Kylo Ren. Surely he can glower just as well as this portrait. 

As Hux moves the painting to hang it on the wall for it’s ‘after’ picture the key rattles around in the little compartment. Hux hangs the portrait and he wraps his hand around the back of the frame. It takes him a second but his fingers find the groove and he pulls the compartment part of the way out. Just enough so he can reach his slender fingers in and grab the key. He lays the thin skeleton key in his palm, marveling at the thing. He picks up the ribbon with his other hand and feels the old, velvet ribbon. It’s still so soft. He takes one finger and traces over the head of the key, feeling the little lines of cool metal. He leans down and lines up the head of the key with the hilt of the sword and, yes, he had been right. They are almost exactly identical. How very interesting. 

He turns his head to find the keyhole and he chuckles a little. Where the blade of the sword vanishes into the frame points to where the keyhole sits, hidden by the intricate carving of the frame and only visible to the eyes when one really looks. 

With the key between his pointer finger and thumb, he gently runs his other three fingers over the keyhole. He gets the same chill up his arm he had when he had turned the key in the keyhole the first time. 

In a sort of daze, still leaned down, face inches from the painting, Hux gently puts the key into the hole and turns it in a full circle to the right. 

A violent shiver runs down his spine and Hux suddenly feels cold. He looks up at the portrait but his vision is spinning. As he watches the portrait swirls into a vortex, colors mixing into a kaleidoscope of light.

Suddenly, Hux’s entire body is lurching forward, into the light emanating from the portrait. All around him light and color swirls vibrantly. He can’t make sense of anything. There are no shapes, nothing he can tangibly name. Colors race so quickly around him that they’re gone before he can even register them, replaced by a new one. Everything is swirling, turning, changing. Nothing sits still and Hux is beginning to feel nauseous. 

Then, just as suddenly as it began, everything lurches to a stop. 

Hux is laying on his back, his eyes closed. His head aches like hell and he’s sure that’s because he cracked it on the concrete floor of his studio. Except… Except under his fingers is not concrete. It’s… that’s carpet. And his left side feels incredibly warm. Is that a fire crackling next to him. He forces his eyes open. 

Hux blinks several times, not believing what he’s seeing. Instead of the high, industrial ceiling of his studio, he is faced with a wooden ceiling, dark and foreboding. To the left, yes definitely, is a fire crackling. He turns his head and is greeted by an ornate fireplace. 

He lifts up on his elbows, shocked and trying to take it all in. 

It looks as if he’s in a study of some sort. There are plush armchairs to his right, bookcases all along the walls. Everything is the same, dark wood. The chairs and other accessories are a dark red that reminds him of the velvet on the key. 

Wait, the key!

Hux sits up quickly, his head spinning. He starts patting all around him, looking for the key. He can’t lose it! It doesn’t belong to him. He stands, going slower this time, grabbing the mantle of the fireplace to steady himself. He turns, still looking for the key, and almost screams. 

Sitting silently behind a dark wood desk, looking just as foreboding and stern as he does in his portrait is Benjamin Skywalker II. He has his elbows on the desk, his fingers steepled and resting against his chin. In front of him, on the desk, sit two identical whiskey glasses, filled with two fingers of dark amber liquid. Hux is going to pass out. 

When Benjamin Skywalker II says, “Hello, Armitage,” in his deep, rich voice Hux does pass out, eyes slipping closed, and everything going black rather quickly. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUYS, i have been waiTING FOR THIS for SO LONG aahhhhhhhh
> 
> fuckin' foreshadowed this shit in chapter two hell yeah
> 
> come yell at me on Tumblr [@ira-fae](https://ira-fae.tumblr.com/)


	9. I'm Not Okay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hux wakes again, in the same wood-paneled room and gets a little explanation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *insert that one meme of that girl saying 'i have never proofread anything in my life, ever' and it saying me over her and the guy says 'we know' and it says you guys over him*

When Hux comes to the second time he’s on a much softer surface, one that has cushions. He’s on a couch. He sits up slowly, blinking his eyes. His heart starts to pick up speed as he realizes that he’s still in that wood-paneled room. The fire still crackles. He spins around, feeling nauseous with the movement, but wanting to find-

Yes, Benjamin Skywalker II still sits at his desk, his fingers still steepled. Though - Hux thinks - he must have moved to put him onto the couch. As they stare at each other Hux’s pulse begins moving even higher and he almost feels like he could pass out again. The foreboding clears his throat and grabs the two glasses of amber liquid, standing slowly. 

“I’m sorry to have startled you. Everyone reacts differently,” he’s saying as he walks around the desk to sit in one of the armchairs, “please, come join me.” Hux stands, shaky on his feet. He walks slowly to the armchair, not really feeling the floor beneath his shoes. He sinks into the chair, his eyes glued on the dark-haired man. 

Everything he had thought, looking at the portrait, had been true. His presence is overwhelming and Hux is almost taken back to his childhood. 

“Here, Irish whiskey.” 

Hux reaches out for the cup, his eyes still glued on the man’s face. He realizes he probably looks like a deer, caught in headlights. Stock still, eyes wide with shock. 

“Tha-” his voice dies in his throat and he tries again, “thank you.” 

“I’m Benjamin Skywalker,” he says, gently, as if he’s trying not to startle Hux. He snorts, despite himself. 

“I know,” he practically hisses. Benjamin Skywalker II doesn’t seem fazed by his reaction, he just lightly sips his own whiskey. Hux finally takes his own cup and pulls it close to his chest, trying to calm his racing heart. 

“This must be frightening for you, so please, allow me to explain what’s happening,” he says, glancing up above the fireplace. Hux follows his line of vision and is shocked to find the same portrait he’s been working on staring down at him. 

“What the fuck,” he whispers softly. He takes his first drink of whiskey. It burns in the back of his throat and- Holy fuck, it burns in the back of his throat. This- This must be real. This can’t be a dream he-

Hux pinches himself, wincing at the pain. 

_ Definitely real, fuck.  _

“Today is the twelfth of May, right?” Benjamin asks softly and Hux jerks his gaze back to the real ( _ very real _ ) man sitting next to him. Hux shakes his head in a jerky motion. Benjamin smiles, “Happy birthday.” 

“How-” Hux starts but Benjamin raises his hand. He looks back to the portrait, his gaze meaningful. 

“Several years ago, an artist friend of mine requested to paint me. I allowed him and he gifted me the portrait, even recommending a skilled carpenter who would build me a frame,” Benjamin pauses, a smile returning to his face, “the carpenter’s name was Armitage. Armitage Huxley.” Hux’s chest squeezes and he gasps. “Armitage was a sweet man with a kind heart. He toiled tirelessly for me, creating the intricate frame I desired. Over the course of his contract, Armitage and I grew closer and closer. He… “ Benjamin pauses, smiling up at the ceiling, he turns to look at Hux, “He is the love of my life. He not only gave me a beautiful frame for my portrait but he gave me his heart.” 

There’s a pause as Hux takes this in. Huxley is… It’s not his surname. This man can’t- surely he can’t be a descendant of Armitage Huxley. That would be- 

“Once, a friend of mine stumbled upon the letters I had saved of Armitage’s. I was careful and said friend did not suspect anything but- But I knew I had to be safer. I commissioned another frame from my love. This one with a key, a keyhole, and a compartment to store it. What you see in front of you,” Benjamin gestures to the painting and Hux takes another drink, shuddering, “is his finished product. It’s beautiful, isn’t it? The old frame is now around a portrait of my late wife.”

“Key…” Armitage says softly, he shakes his head in disbelief. 

“Then the portrait hung on the wall, protecting our privacy, hiding our written correspondence. I only open it if he’s away and I miss him terribly,” Benjamin chuckles, “but on his birthday something strange happened. I hosted a party for him and all our friends came. Of course, we kept our distance during the event, not wanting to raise suspicion, but the party was a success.” 

“Oh,” is all Hux can manage in the pause. His mind is racing with all the new information. Rey had been correct. The painting did act as a door to a secret hiding place. Hux pinches the bridge of his nose and breathes out heavily. 

“Everyone had gone to bed and I was in here, working. Armitage would’ve scolded me if he hadn’t been… Well, I keep around bottles of Irish whiskey for a reason. Then with a flash, Armitage tumbled out of the painting. Except, it wasn’t  _ my _ Armitage. He wore strange clothes. He spoke without his beautiful Irish accent, as you do. He was just as panicked as you were. In fact, you’ve all been equally panicked.” Benjamin chuckles, pausing again. 

“All.. of us?” Hux asks, his voice gaining strength. Benjamin turns to look at him, a sly smile on his face. He nods. Hux drains his glass. Benjamin stands, moving back to the desk. He grabs a glass bottle as he talks. 

“Every few years a beautiful ginger man comes through my portrait. His name is some variant of familiar. Armitage Hux, Armitage Solo, Armitage Ren. Every time he speaks slightly differently, his clothing is a little different, and he passes out on my floor. What’s your name?” 

“H- Hux. Just Hux.”

Hux holds out his cup and Benjamin pours two more fingers. Hux doesn’t retreat, his eyes boring into Benjamin. The man chuckles and pours a little more whiskey into his glass. Hux takes a rather large drink and relishes in the burn. It’s the only thing that makes sense. 

“Why?” He asks, hoping the man knows what he’s talking about.

Benjamin clears his throat, “Well, I’m not sure. Armitage,  _ my _ Armitage, thinks he’s put part of his soul into the frame, or that our love letters have left their essence on it. Whatever it is… I’ve met many different versions of you.” 

Hux breath is shaky and he takes another drink. 

“Every time they embarrass me deeply by telling me how my counterpart is behaving himself. He’s been quite a dunce, I can tell you. Sometimes Benjamin like myself, sometimes Ben, sometimes-”

Hux interrupts, “But I don’t even know Kylo Ren.” Benjamin sighs lightly but is still smiling. 

“Your version is Kylo Ren? Ah… When he’s taken that name he’s usually harder to get through. Well, it’s alright. Fate will bring you together.”

Before Hux can even  _ begin _ to process that Benjamin is speaking again and Hux realizes he’s asking about his work. 

“Oh… I conserve and restore fine art,” this is easy, this is familiar, his nerves settle a little, “I actually was working on your portrait.” Hux stands and moves closer to the portrait, pointing, “There was a large hole here, in your cheek. I had to patch it up. There were also planar distortions in the canvas.”

“I’m sorry. But I’m afraid I won’t much understand what you’re speaking of. You see, there has never been a version before us. My Armitage and I seem to be the earliest instance. Every Armitage I’ve met has been from the future. And you all speak of things I can’t even begin to wrap my head around.” 

Hux takes in a breath and nods. Of course. This is… Fuck, this must be in the 1800s, of course, the man wouldn’t understand Hux’s own present. He sits back down, feeling a little shaken. 

“I don’t… This is hard to wrap my head around.” 

Benjamin snorts and takes a drink, “It is. So, if you haven’t met Kylo Ren, who owns my portrait? Has it been sold to some nobody?” Benjamin seems a little on edge about this idea and Hux shakes his head quickly. 

“No, it’s still in your family, it’s just… Kylo Ren doesn’t own it.” 

“Ah, that makes sense,” Benjamin hesitates, seeming almost nervous, “How long ago did Kylo Ren get into an argument with his father?” Hux hesitates, confused. “Every version of myself, including me,” he looks down, sounding ashamed, “has fought with my father. How long ago did they fight?” 

Hux swallows, trying to remember what he’s learned of that Godforsaken celebrity gossip, “Uh, fourteen years… I think.” Benjamin hums thoughtfully and Hux  _ does not _ like that. 

“Hmm, yes. That is long. You have your work cut out for you.”

Hux blanches, “Excuse me?” 

Benjamin chuckles, looking up at Hux, “Oh, it takes my dense, stubborn self meeting  _ you _ to realize that no matter how much my father wronged me that  _ I also _ wronged _ him _ .” He nods thoughtfully. Hux shakes his head, scoffing in disbelief. 

“But I don’t even know him!” 

“Yes, and that’s alright. Fate will bring you together… And Kylo will not speak to his father until you convince him.” 

Hux downs his drink again, only now starting to feel the warm buzzing in his fingers and lips. This… This is insane. He’s never going to meet Kylo Ren… Much less convince him to patch up a fourteen-year-old wound. Plus, Benjamin seems to think fate is going to bring them together. Meaning what? Is he supposed to be Kylo Ren’s secret gay boyfriend? Hux wants to throw up. 

“You must reason with him. He won’t listen to an outright command. Appeal to his sense of right and wrong. Do not be afraid to mention his mother. He might pretend he does not care, but his mother will be a soft spot,” Benjamin pauses chuckling, “Trust me. I know.” 

Somewhere else a clock chimes. In the silence, Hux count.  _ One, two, three _ . 

_ Appeal to his sense of right and wrong. _

_ Four, five, six.  _

_ You have your work cut out for you. _

_ Seven, eight, nine.  _

Hux shakes his head, his eyes going up to the portrait. 

_ Ten, eleven. _

“It is getting late, my friend. I’ve never had anyone stay later than eleven-thirty. I fear what would happen if you were to be here when the clock chimes midnight.” Benjamin stands, setting his glass down. He steps up to the fireplace and reaches up, finding the compartment without searching. He pulls out the key and holds it out for Hux. 

“Your key should still be in the keyhole in the frame. And you should return to where you left.”

Hux sets his own glass down and grabs the key. The ribbon looks brand new. Hux feels sick. Benjamin steps out of his way. 

“Remember, turn it in a full circle, clockwise.” Benjamin sits back down in his chair, picking up his glass. Hux glances back at him, his stomach rolling. He feels that chill as he looks up at the painting. He repeats the actions of his studio, holding the key between his finger and thumb, using his other three fingers to run over the keyhole. He inserts the key and starts to turn. “Please, remember, he needs you just as much as you need him.”

Hux stops, looking back at Benjamin. Wait, fuck! He didn’t fully turn the key. 

But the portrait is already swirling and he’s lurching forward, yelling as he goes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one more to go folks, we're finally meeting Kylo Ren next chapter i pROMISE
> 
> come yell at me on Tumblr [@ira-fae](https://ira-fae.tumblr.com/)


	10. In the Wake of All That's Happened Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hux wakes again, having traveled through the portrait again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ngl i cried a little posting this

He stares down the barrel of a pistol when he opens his eyes. Hux startles, gasping loudly. He is very clearly  _ not _ in his studio. His pulse has skyrocketed. He opens his mouth to say something but anything he might’ve said is caught in his throat as his eyes finally adjust and move past the immediate danger. Standing above him (holding a gun, his brain supplies helpfully) is Kylo Ren. He has a sneer on his face. Hux wants to scream. How is any of this  _ fucking real?! _

“I- Please- I’m- Don’t hurt me…” He manages finally, raising up to his elbows. It’s not the best, but it’s words. It doesn’t get Kylo to lower the gun, though. He clears his throat and tries again. “I’m… I’m not here to steal anything or to, like, kill you. I swear. I don’t… I don’t even have any weapons.” Marginally better. Kylo Ren (Kylo  _ fucking  _ Ren, his brain supplies helpfully) huffs air out through his nose. But he does step back, a little. The gun is still pointing at him. 

“I wanna know-” Kylo Ren finally speaks and holy shit his voice is just as deep and glorious as Benjamin Skywalker II’s, he shakes his head, “How the  _ fuck _ ?!” Kylo gestures somewhere to the left but Hux doesn’t look - not yet, still a  _ gun in his face _ .

“I can explain. Probably. But… could you…” He tilts his head toward the  _ gun _ (that Kylo Ren is holding, his brain supplies helpfully). Not helpful, actually. None of what keeps popping into his mind is actually helpful. Kylo Ren narrows his eyes, searching for something. He sighs softly and steps back from Hux. There’s a click - Hux flinches - and Kylo is lowering himself into a chair and setting down  _ the fucking gun _ . 

Hux takes a moment to lay back down and  _ breathe _ . Shit! Portrait. Gun. Kylo Ren. Holy fuck, Hux thinks, now that the gun is out of his face, fate  _ did _ bring them together. Benjamin Skywalker II is probably smugly drinking whiskey right about now. Except that he’s been dead for two hundred years probably. Hux stifles that urge to scream. He sits up, finally able to look at his surroundings. 

He’s in a sitting room. A modern sitting room with marble floors, gold accents, and black furniture. He didn’t realize Kylo Ren was so… pretentious. Hux stands slowly, painfully aware that there is still a gun sitting on the little glass table next to the black chair Kylo lowered himself into. 

“Uh, so…” Hux starts, taking a shaky breath in. Where does he even begin? He turns, finally looking to where Kylo had gestured earlier and- “Fuck!” There’s a portrait, almost identical to the one sitting in his office, except this one is of Kylo Ren, Hux is positive. The nose is a little crooked, the clothing is more modern, more black. And most obviously, there is a large jagged scar across his cheek, almost exactly where the hole that Hux had repaired had been on the portrait of Benjamin Skywalker II. 

“I knew I wasn’t crazy,” the man says softly. Hux turns. Kylo is shaking his head, glaring at the portrait, “When I was a child… I saw him come from his own portrait, he didn’t see me, just swore and vanished back into the painting, Dad was not happy when I told that story.” Hux waits fascinated that Benjamin would have come through the portrait himself. He didn’t say anything about that to Hux. Oh, he has so many questions. But maybe he hadn’t done it yet. Maybe, Kylo’s past is part of Benjamin’s future… Fuck, Hux’s head is going to explode. He wonders what day it was. Was it Hux’s birthday? Or can only an Armitage travel on his birthday. Was it Kylo’s birthday? Or do the Kylo’s/Benjamin’s travel some time different. 

“You said you could explain,” Kylo huffs. Hux turns back to the man, nodding frantically. He sits down in the other seat without asking. He doesn’t get up though, he’s too emotionally drained for this. 

“So…” he clears his throat. Start strong.  _ Jesus Christ _ . “My name is Hux. I own Tarine Fine Art Restoration and Conservation. I started working on the portrait of Benjamin Skywalker II,” Hux notices the change in Kylo Ren’s face.

“I always hated that  _ damn _ portrait,” he mutters. 

Hux, without thinking, says, “Uh, but-” Kylo cuts him off with a look. 

“Spite is a powerful motivator.”

Hux waits, hoping for more of an explanation. Kylo makes eye contact with him and rolls his eyes. 

“You obviously know who I am,” Hux nods his head and Kylo turns back to the portrait, “After that argument with my father I… I took a lot of things that didn’t belong to me.  _ Technically _ .” Kylo gives Hux a cutting look as if to say, ‘accuse me of stealing,’ Hux does not. “One such thing was a frame that is exactly identical to BS,” Hux blanches at the thought of Benjamin Skywalker’s initials being ‘ _ BS’ _ , Kylo moves swiftly on, “There was a portrait of a woman. They say it was his wife. I still have it, in a new frame, in storage. Somewhere.”

The thought of that turns Hux’s stomach but he keeps his mouth firmly closed. Kylo has decided to info-dump and he’s not going to ruin that. 

“I was so angry, then. I was spiteful and… Well, I had a portrait of myself made. As a,” he shrugs theatrically, “mockery, you could say.” There’s more silence and Hux has a feeling Kylo is done speaking. 

“I… was also to restore the frame. And Ms. Skywalker, Rey… She brought me a-” Hux stops when he sees Kylo’s facial expression. He looks as if he’s been stabbed. Hux is taken aback. Kylo brings a hand up to his face, sighing softly. 

“How is she?” he doesn’t look as he asks. Hux looks back at the portrait, uncomfortable with the amount of emotion in the room. 

“She… seems good,” he doesn’t shrug, it seems dismissive somehow, “She misses you,” he practically whispers, chancing a glance at Kylo. “She saw the Exposé magazine and got very emotional,” Hux isn’t sure why these words spill out, but it feels right. There’s another pause and when Kylo lowers his hand, his face is red and his eyes are watery. 

“I miss her too.” It’s a confession. Hux feels like he’s been let in on a secret. He looks away, feeling like he’s looking in on a private moment. There is silence and Hux thinks back to how he felt watching Rey cry in his office. 

“How did you do it?” Kylo sounds very different when he speaks again. He has pulled all those emotions back in, stuffed them somewhere else. Hux looks over. Kylo is giving him a hard stare. He feels a chill run up his spine.  _ God, just as intimidating as his ancestor _ . 

“Uh, there’s a key. It… it matches the sword, and-” Hux stands, moving over to Kylo’s portrait. He points to the sword, following the trajectory with his finger, “There’s a keyhole, here. On the other frame. There is also a secret compartment,” Hux moves his fingers to the back of the portrait, approximating where the little slot is, “You pull it out,” he acts it out, feeling a little silly, “and the key goes in there.” His cheeks are hot. It’s embarrassing, almost, to explain this to a man who grew up around the portrait. But when he looks over, Kylo is enraptured. 

And so, they talk. The tension has eased away, leaving two curios individuals with pieces to a puzzle they didn’t realize they were doing together. Hux asks questions about the portrait, about what Kylo knew of it. Kylo asks about the time travel ( _ you fucking time traveled, Hux! Yeah, I suppose I did. _ ) and Benjamin Skywalker II. Hux tells him, with an increasingly red face, about Benjamin Skywalker II and the frame maker he fell in love with. He tells Kylo his name was Armitage (neglecting to mention that that is also  _ his name _ ) and how he built the two frames. He tells Kylo how he was supposed to return to his studio.

“I… guess I should be getting back,” Hux looks down at his shoes, blushing when he realizes he doesn’t want to leave. Kylo Ren is a great conversationalist when he’s not waving a gun around. He’s witty and sarcastic and Hux is trying to ignore all unsubtle reminders his brain is giving him about “fate” and “meant for each other” sentiments. “Um, where am I?” Hux looks up, blushing harder, realizing he’d never asked. Kylo chuckles. 

“Thornton Heath.” 

Hux shakes his head, chuckling. Of course, Kylo Ren lives in Croydon. That’s where The Mos Eisley Cantina is and he’s there often, isn’t he? It would only make sense. 

“I live in downtown Croydon. My studio is a couple of streets from A212.”

Kylo nods in understanding, “That’s not too far. I could take you.” Hux sucks in a breath. Kylo Ren just offered him a ride. How is this possible? How is any of what has happened today possible? 

Hux needs therapy. 

“Uh, sure…”

Kylo stands, smiling, “Do you mind motorcycles?” Hux stands but his brain short circuits at the thought of riding on the back of a motorcycle with this man. Wrapping his arms around that broad chest, laying his face on his back. 

“N-no. That’s- It’s fine.” 

And somehow one of the crazier things of his birthday is riding on the back of a motorcycle - Kylo Ren’s motorcycle. It’s not as sexy as he imagined it to be. Honestly, it’s a little terrifying and Hux is questioning his decision. But it’s less than ten minutes and with a few hand signal directions, Kylo is parking in front of his studio. 

He’s lived this close to him the whole time. Hux resists the urge to laugh at the absurdity. 

Hux is handing back his helmet - Kylo had  _ insisted _ \- when Kylo takes off his own and gives him a shy look. 

“Could I…” he starts softly, climbing off the bike, stowing the helmets, “Could I come and see it?” Hux blinks stupidly, trying to connect the dots and then-

“Of course.” Absurdity persists and he’s leading Kylo into the building and up the stairs to his studio. As they tread of the stairs - Hux’s footsteps light and experienced, Kylo’s footsteps heavy and unsure - Benjamin’s words come back to Hux. 

_ “Oh, it takes my dense, stubborn self meeting you to realize that no matter how much my father wronged me that I also wronged him.” _

“I fought with my father too,” Hux says before he can stop himself, “A loud screaming match, things were thrown. I… I said things I regret, but I also said a lot of things I had been wanting to say for  _ years _ ,” Hux keeps going, not wanting to see Kylo’s reaction, “It ended horribly. I left for university without a dollar to my name. I haven’t spoken to my father in seventeen years. And he deserves it. But what  _ I _ didn’t deserve was to carry that baggage around with me for seventeen years. And I’ve really tried not to. I’ve moved on as best I can. I started speaking to my mother again. I’m healing.” 

For a little bit, there’s quiet, just their footsteps echoing in the stairwell. 

Then Kylo says, “That’s… good for you. But, you don’t know what you’re talking about. My- It’s different. You have no idea.” More silence as Hux mulls this over. They hadn’t broached the topic of fathers at all when they were at Kylo’s so Hux isn’t sure how to proceed. 

“You’re right,” he admits, “I don’t have any idea what happened for you. All I have is my experience and that’s all I can share.” 

They don’t talk again as they finish climbing the stairs. Hux punches in the keycode and slides open the door. As they walk into the studio it’s hard for Hux to realize that he was  _ just  _ in here. He shakes his head, leading Kylo to the portrait. He’s shocked to see the key still in the keyhole, the compartment still slid out. He moves to it, taking the key out, ignoring the cold chilly, and putting everything back together. 

He turns, ready to move to Kylo’s side, armed with art terms, but he’s pulled up short. 

Kylo Ren is crying. Tears are sliding down his cheeks and Hux watches, in horror, as Kylo sinks to his knees and sobs. 

**_To Be Continued..._ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this will be a series! this will include backstory one shots and a sequel! (where we'll actually get to see them fucking interacting some, i'm sorry)
> 
> come yell at me on Tumblr [@ira-fae](https://ira-fae.tumblr.com/)


End file.
